Page:West 192 023.jpg

(Who had no doubt ſome noble creature in her)
Daſh'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke
Againſt my very heart: poore ſoules, they periſh'd.
Had I byn any God of power, I would
Haue ſuncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere
It ſhould the good Ship ſo haue ſwallow'd, and
The fraughting Soules within her.

Proſ. Be collected,
No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart
there's no harme done.

Mira. O woe, the day.

Proſ. No harme:
I haue done nothing, but in care of thee
(Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who
Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing
Of whence I am: nor that I am more better
Then Proſpero, Maſter of a full poore cell,
And thy no greater Father.

Mira. More to know
Did neuer medle with my thoughts.

Proſ. 'Tis time
I ſhould informe thee farther: Lend thy hand
And plucke my Magick garment from me: So,
Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort,
The direfull ſpectacle of the wracke which touch'd
The very vertue of compaſſion in thee:
I haue with ſuch prouiſion in mine Art
So ſafely ordered, that there is no ſoule
No not ſo much perdition as an hayre
Betid to any creature in the veſſell
Which thou heardſt cry, which thou ſaw'ſt ſinke: Sit
For thou muſt now know farther. [downe,

Mira. You haue often
Begun to tell me what I am, but ſtopt
And left me to a booteleſſe Inquiſition,
Concluding, ſtay: not yet.

Proſ. The howr's now come
The very minute byds thee ope thine eare,
Obey, and be attentive. Canſt thou remember
A time before we came vnto this Cell?
I doe not thinke thou canſt, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old.

Mira. Certainely Sir, I can.

Proſ. By what? by any other houſe, or perſon?
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira. 'Tis farre oft:
And rather like a dreame, then an aſſurance
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?

Proſ. Thou hadſt; and more Miranda: But how is it
That this liues in thy minde ? What ſeeſt thou els
In the dark-backward and Abiſme of Time?
Yf thou remembreſt ought ere thou cam'ſt here,
How thou cam'ſt here thou maiſt.

Mira. But that I doe not.

Proſ. Twelue yere ſince (Miranda) twelue yere ſince,
Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and
A Prince of power:

Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?

Proſ. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and
She ſaid thou waſt my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire,
And Princeſſe; no worſe Iſſued.

Mira. O the heauens,
What fowle play had we, that we came from thence?
Or bleſſed was't we did?

Proſ. Both, both my Girle.
By fowle-play (as thou ſaiſt) were we heau'd thence,
But bleſſedly holpe hither.

Mira. O my heart bleedes
To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance, pleaſe you, farther;

Proſ. My brother and thy vncle, call’d Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother ſhould
Be ſo perfidious: he, whom next thy ſelfe
Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put
The mannage of my ſtate, as at that time
Through all the ſignories it was the firſt,
And Proſpero, the prime Duke, being ſo reputed
In dignity; and for the liberall Artes,
Without a paralell; thoſe being all my ſtudie,
The Gouernment I caſt vpon my brother,
And to my State grew ſtranger, being tranſported
And rapt in ſecret studies, thy falſe vncle
(Do'ſt thou attend me?)

Mira. Sir, moſt heedefully.

Proſ. Being once perfected how to graunt ſuites,
how to deny them: who t'aduance, and who
To traſh for ouer-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine, I ſay, or chang'd 'em,
Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key,
Of Officer, and office, ſet all hearts i'th ſtate
To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was
The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck,
And ſuckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'ſt not?

Mira. O good Sir, I doe.

Proſ. I pray thee marke me:
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To cloſenes, and the bettering of my mind
with that, which but by being ſo retir'd
Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my falſe brother
Awak'd an euill nature, and my truſt
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falſehood in it's contrarie, as great
As my truſt was, which had indeede no limit,
A confidence ſans bound. He being thus Lorded,
Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,
But what my power might els exact. Like one
Who hauing into truth, by telling of it,
Made ſuch a ſynner of his memorie
To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue
He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Subſtitution
And executing th'outward face of Roialtie
With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing:
Do'ſtthou heare?

Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafeneſſe.

Proſ. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for, he needes will be
Abſolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie
Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties
He thinks me now incapable. Confederates
(ſo drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage
Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend
The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine)
To moſt ignoble ſtooping.

Mira. Oh the heauens:

Proſ. Marke his condition, and th’euent, then tell me
If this might be a brother.

Mira. I ſhould ſinne
To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,

Good